Swallow me Down
by Mable
Summary: The unexpressed feelings kept bound tightly beneath striped canvas, unable to be released and unknown to all. It's not the ignorance and bliss that is let on; they're just swallowed.


**Mable: Made this in a very short amount of time just to get something out while I'm working on something else. Meant to be quick, shaky, uneven, and rushed to match thoughts changing. I don't own **_**9, **_**Enjoy!**

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_**Swallow me Down**_

I tried to tell them, but I failed.

It's okay though, I'm okay, and we're alright now. It hurt, though, when I awoke in the trench. My back hurt, my legs hurt, and my head hurt. I still climbed out though, all by myself. I knew that Two would be proud when I saw him again and he was. I let him get rest though as he was getting his legs fixed. Instead I was happy to see the others alive.

I missed Five a lot. He and I are very close, we've always been close to best friends, and without him I wouldn't be able to say anyone was my friend. I went after he did, but that was okay because I didn't want to see One go, and I knew he would soon. It's so hard to distinguish which part I see is in the past and what part is coming soon, and which isn't real at all. Sometimes it scares me so much that I end up crying. I sit on my bed and stare at the walls sometimes and instead of seeing my drawings I wonder why I was made to see all of this. Then, though, I remember what Two told me. He said it was a gift and even though it is hard to pull through I still believe him.

I'm glad the twins weren't hurt. They're younger than me so they shouldn't have to go through the things the rest of us do. Besides, all they have ever wanted was to read and learn, like I just want to draw and get sleep. Because I never get sleep, and then I talk weird, and then the others don't understand, and I just can't get what I want to say out. Anyway, they deserved to be fine, just like Seven, she survives everything. It's okay though, so does Nine, even when it seems impossible.

Thankfully Two is okay, and so is One. They're like my parents and I know the truth about what happened. I wasn't surprised when One said he sent Two out to die, because I knew it wasn't true, as I was there when Two said he wanted to go out. Everyone still holds it against One and because Two is still being worked on he hasn't been able to tell the truth. Everyone thinks One is a bad leader, but he isn't, and he's the only one who's ever listened when I said that something was coming. The others don't care anymore. We're supposed to fight whatever comes towards us, but it's okay.

Then there was Eight. Eight tormented me, he bullied me, and when he was taken I had a feeling he'd return. I believed that nothing could take him away. He is sort of the only thing I can rely on; Eight will always be back to hurt me, but he'll always be back. So when he didn't come out I wasn't shocked, Nine and Seven pull through everything, but it's okay…

No.

It's _not _okay.

_It's not okay!_

None of this is okay! I told him exactly what to do and he ignored me up until the point that it was risking his own life! Too busy circling Seven or wanting to spite One that he couldn't see what he was doing! Look where it got us; years with One and we're all fine, a day with Nine and we're all gone. Except for those who are worthy, like Seven, and the twins only because their Seven's whole world. I was just there, ignorable, avoidable, and the others were just in the way. Take down Two and overtake the other's loyalty, take down Eight and take One's defense, take down One and become leader, and then Five isn't _that _important, he might just want Seven anyway, and all I do is ramble so why can't _I _take the plunge while he takes as leader of the few remaining Stitchpunks left?!

Swallow it down, Six. It isn't worth it.

I just don't understand, sometimes, why everyone but me is so blind. I just need sleep and then my optics open to something _completely _different. Nine has done nothing but taken everything from me. He took my best friend, he took my parents, he took the only one willing to be by my side at a daily basis, and he threw it all away! Even now he laughs by Seven's side and I can't help but think "Why?"! He laughs and smiles as Two gets surgery _he _caused, he acts like a leader when _he _did this, and I wouldn't be surprised if he knew what he was doing before he awoke the Machine-

No, it's not worth it. Inhale. Exhale.

Maybe I'm just so upset because I knew it was coming and nobody cared. Nobody even cares when I try to get it out, they watch me as I spill my soul upon paper and they imagine a foreign language. I'm not speaking Luxembourgish, and don't look at me like that, Nine, unless I'm engulfed in flames, because I don't look like that much of a freak. They do it though, they single me out; I tell you what I know and you all move a bit farther away. I heard you, Seven, when you said that I was just acting like 'Six' again. You are partially responsible for this. Nine was willing to eat out of _your _hand, and you fed him the 'One should die, Eight should die, we should be leaders, we're better', but all you ever did was run away! You always thought yourself better than me, so you left me to save yourself!

Everyone thinks they're better than me! They see me as a freak! Father branded me with the appearance of a madman and a voice box to match…

I'm crying again. I can't help it. I feel bad, really bad, and I can't do anything but sit here and suffer. I just wanted someone to tell me that I had been right, to tell me I'm not a freak, but instead they just ignore me, instead they just assume I'm acting like normal. They're right; this is normal. The unexpressed feelings, the anger, the sadness, the betrayed feeling that eats my canvas away; they aren't new. I try to spill this onto the paper, but all that comes out is slashes of black ink, my hands tear my work, ink is everywhere, and I hate my title as 'The Artist'. An artist should be able to express themselves better, but all I do is smile and wait for something better. The smile only really exists in the few moments I have of peace. They aren't here as much. They're lies, just like everything I say out loud.

I'm soaked in rain water and the black liquid, makes me look worse, makes me look insane, but I am insane. My thoughts move so quickly that I can't control them. So I eat them again, I put up a smile, "_I'm fine."_ I scream it inside, but I can't get it out. Even now if I tried to speak, all that would come out is stutters and whispers, because I _am _a freak.

Swallow it down.

Anyway, everything's better now. Everyone's alive and we're going to be happy. I should thank Nine for all he's done, and he'll never think I have any ill will.

Because I swallow it down.

And I swallow _me _down.

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**Mable: Short, half-finished thoughts; you've got to love them. Really I was trying to express the unseen feelings that Six might be experiencing. Supposed to be his regret towards his own actions, anger at the survivors, and a mix of self-loathing and depression probably caused by living with the manic-depression nature of One. Change the manic to 'anger' and the depression to 'fury', naturally. I hope you enjoyed!**


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